Addictions and Vices
by Etheral
Summary: [AU] Bored high school teacher Dr House is looking for a new puzzle. When a student transfers from Australia, he believes his wishes have been granted... but getting to know him may be getting in too deep. What could a sixteen year old be hiding?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Good afternoon class, my name is Gregory House. To observe the correct student/teacher guidelines, you will address me as Doctor House, or simply just House if three syllables is too much for you."

He was met with twenty pairs of blank, surprised eyes as he hobbled into the room, leaning heavily on his cane as he went. House surveyed the room as he set his (admittedly empty) briefcase down on the desk, feeling the same sort of frustrated disappointment that he felt at the start of every school year. This class was clearly as dim-witted as the last, if not more so, and yet he was expected to teach them advanced Biology?

He hated Headmistress Cuddy.

The fact that none of his students had dared even to blink since he had entered the room only cemented that idea in his head.

"Now, we're going to-"

He was interrupted by a boy walking in the room, glancing around and looking a little like a scared rabbit. House raised his eyebrows at the boy.

"Kindergarten is across the street," House said, notoriously short-fused.

It was true that the kid looked younger than the other teenagers in his class, even if it was only by one or two years. Unfortunately for him, his straw blonde hair and rather innocent looks weren't making this difference any less noticeable. He flushed slightly as the attention of the whole class turned on him, but raised his gaze to House with a slight defiance in his posture.

It was clear he was about to speak, but House simply turned back to the class, fully intent on ignoring him.

"As I was saying-"

"I'm in the right place," the boy said dryly.

He was _Australian_.

Oh, this was going to be precious.

"Your accent says you're quite far from the 'right place'."

The boy rolled his eyes and walked over to House, handing over a sheet of pink paper. House glared at him in challenge, annoyed that his 'scaring-the-newbies' speech was being so easily ripped to shreds, before glancing over the paper.

_New student… accelerated learning… Robert Chase._

Damn, he _was_ in the right place.

"Any relation to Rowan Chase, the doctor?"

He was surprised at the flash of emotion he saw across Chase's face, before green eyes narrowed.

"No."

He was lying.

House was starting to look forward to the upcoming school year

"Oh, so it was the other Australian transfer student that Cuddy told me about this morning, the one who's the _son_ of Rowan Chase."

It was a complete bluff on his part, but the crossed arms and rather shuttered expression told House all he needed to know.

"What did he do to make you so mad? Cut off your yachting privileges?"

He was expecting for the Aussie to blow up in his face, yell at him, or at the very least to glare. Instead, Chase's expression didn't even falter.

"If you don't want me in your class, I can switch. There's an opening in Mr Wilson's."

Now that was just no fun.

"Take a seat," House said with a sigh, gesturing to the classroom at large.

Chase frowned at the abrupt change in his attitude, but didn't comment, instead trying to find somewhere to sit. There were numerous empty seats in the room but it seemed he was very aware of high school cliques as he glanced around. House noticed his gaze flicked almost longingly to the back row, as if that is where he used to sit in his school back in Oz, but dismissed it rather quickly. He must have noticed Foreman and his friends glowering at him, silently daring him to even try it.

There were a cluster of geeks in the front row, looking at him in slight admiration, no doubt connecting his 'accelerated learning' status with his pretty face in wonder. Chase looked away from them uncomfortably, obviously not used to that sort of attention.

The second row was no more promising, full of loners, or goths, or emos, or whatever they were known as to other teenagers. Chase clearly didn't fit there, being neither decorated with chains nor wearing black, even if he did seem to have a collection of issues to rival even theirs.

The third row was also not Chase's scene, full of members of the popular clique that he doubted the reserved, apparently troubled teenager would fit into. However, the third row contained pretty-girl Cameron who had an affinity to baby animals, flowers, and now, lost, cute Australians. She gave Chase a blinding smile, and, as the boy clearly had little choice, he took the seat next to her with a small grin of relief.

"Now that we're fully multicultural," House continued, justifiably receiving glares from every 'minority' student in the room, "we can continue with our lesson."

Chase tried to listen as House talked about the manufacture of proteins in an animal cell, but couldn't really focus. He had read over this topic during the summer anyway, so he could afford not to really pay attention. He was clearly not the only one as the girl next to him turned and offered him her hand under the table.

"Allison Cameron," she greeted with a smile.

"Robert Chase," he responded before nodding to House. "Is he always like that?"

"Pretty much. He's brilliant though, you'll see."

Chase hummed in a sort of agreement, but was still a bit sore about the mention of his father. He and his mother had moved to America to escape Rowan Chase. Well, rather he had moved his mother to escape Rowan Chase. Nevertheless, either way, he wasn't expecting his Biology teacher to have heard of him.

Maybe he should have gone further. England, perhaps. That was on the opposite side of the world. Surely his name wouldn't have travelled that far.

He sighed a little, knowing it was futile to think like that. He had worked for ages back in Australia to afford the plane tickets to get here, even longer for the crappy flat they now lived in. Another trip was probably going to kill him. Besides, they hadn't been here for long, maybe America was exactly what his mother needed.

"So when did you move here?" she asked. "I… um… noticed your accent."

Chase knew it was kind of hard not to.

"About four months ago, straight from Melbourne."

She raised her eyebrows, impressed.

"So you're sort of new in town?"

Chase shrugged, thinking it was more of a problem he was new to the _country_, before nodding.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, if you want, I could show you around, maybe we could grab a cof-"

"Hey, hey!" House called to them. "Surely you haven't found something more interesting than Biology?"

Robert and Allison looked to each other, speechless after being caught out.

"Swapping hair tips, although possibly to the benefit of Cameron's split ends," House continued, ignoring the way Allison raised a hand to her hair in horror, "doesn't help you learn about transcription. So… er… detention."

Chase slumped in his seat.

No doubt a rubbish start to a rubbish year.

* * *

**A/N: **So… what do you think?

A quick note on ages/roles for anyone who wants to get this sorted now:

Rowan is a famous doctor (still a rheumatologist, though) who has published a lot of articles and written books, so is pretty well known to Medical and Biological professionals. That's how House knew about him.

Chase is sixteen, Foreman, Cameron and everyone else in that class are seventeen. They're obviously all students.

House and Wilson are teachers (this will be explained later on). House is an academic doctor, not a medical doctor, i.e. he did a doctorate in Biology. Wilson didn't, hence he's Mr Wilson. (Mr House just sounds a bit too odd and he's meant to be a 'genius', so I doubt he would settle for anything less than being a doctor). And so that explains that difference.

As for Cuddy… yes, Headmistress Cuddy. :D

Other characters may appear in later chapters, but these are the ones mentioned so far.

Hope you liked it…?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"So," Wilson said, picking up a plate of salad from the counter. "Who's the lucky lady?"

His best, and admittedly only, friend joined him a few seconds later, having braved the hordes of school children to get a curry from the appropriate section of the canteen. He placed it triumphantly on Wilson's tray, much to the despair of Wilson. At his look, House pulled a mock-sad face.

"I have a bad leg."

Wilson rolled his eyes, resigned to the fact he'd be buying lunch for two for the rest of his career.

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"I'm going to ignore it."

Wilson sighed.

"I'm not letting this go. I heard you… _whistling_." Wilson said, as if this was some foreign activity. "You're happy. This either means you've seen that shrink Cuddy's been recommending for the last six years, or you got some."

House wanted to respond with a cutting ''Got some'? Did you just never leave high school?', before remembering that neither of them really had.

"Yeah, that must be it."

They approached the cash registers and House breezed through, grabbing a table as Wilson dealt with that tiresome paying business. As members of staff, they could choose to eat away from the students, but the alternative was spending more time with their colleagues. As most of the other teachers were either boring or sexually repressed… they opted for the kids.

Speaking, or rather _thinking_, of which, House glanced around the bustling lunch hall, seeing the same old cliques that he saw every day. He reflected a little pointlessly that in some respects the students were pretty much the same as their teachers: teenagers were so boring when they fell into these groups. It made things too easy.

No, the most interesting people were the ones who didn't fit anywhere.

Like the blonde walking into the canteen, practically arm-in-arm with Allison Cameron, the most popular girl in school. Did Chase even realise this? Did he know that half the school would kill to be in his place right now?

Most likely not.

He was certainly interesting. An outcast by proxy, being the new kid, and the potential of a very interesting past if their conversation about his dad was anything to go by. His accelerated learning status testified he was intelligent, yet he was undoubtedly attractive, definitely rich, and therefore had absolutely no need to apply himself. If that wasn't enough to snare House's interests, there was something beneath this poster-boy exterior. The way he had handled House at the beginning of their lesson revealed a certain sharpness about him, a definite edge…

His thoughts were interrupted when Wilson claimed the seat next to him, sliding him his lunch over the table. House accepted it with relish, and taking up his cutlery.

"Alright," Wilson said, picking up rather seamlessly where he left off. "So if it's not some girl and you're as crazy as ever, what is it?"

House watched as Chase hesitantly sat with Cameron's rather brainless collection of jocks and cheerleaders, sending a polite smile around the group and looking completely out of his comfort zone.

"Job satisfaction."

Wilson laughed, too shocked to do anything else. When House only continued following the blonde's every move with his eyes, Wilson found he had to speak.

"You're not serious?"

"Sure I am," he said, shooting Wilson a quick glance. "These children are the future."

Wilson just gave him that Look. The one which said 'you can keep throwing me this rubbish, but I've known you for ten years and I can see through your bullshit'.

Giving up, House nodded in Chase's direction. Wilson frowned and followed his friend's eye line as he turned back to watching the same group of students he'd been watching before.

"New kid?" he asked uncertainly, squinting at the latest addition to Cameron's clique. "I've heard about him… the Australian… oh, that's what this is? He's 'interesting'?"

Disliking the way he had suddenly become predictable, House stuffed a bite of curry in his mouth.

"Don't be jealous. You're interesting too."

Wilson set down his fork, turning to House.

"It's his first day. Cut him some slack before you start putting him through hell."

"You act like I'm unprofessional."

"You are," Wilson affirmed. "Cuddy just doesn't care because you get your students through exams… well, the ones that stick around anyway."

House couldn't say he was surprised by this revelation and so maintained his gaze across the cafeteria.

"Go on, then," Wilson said with a sigh. "What's so special about this one?"

House smiled reluctantly, taking a sip of Wilson's water to cover himself on that front.

"Do you know who his dad is?"

Wilson blinked.

"Knowing you… a baseball player or porn star."

"You think I can identify the children of porn stars?" House asked, incredulous.

Wilson shrugged a little defensively.

"Come on," House said. "Australian, famous, last name Chase… someone even you may have heard of."

Wilson cast around in his memory for a moment, swearing that name sounded familiar.

"Rowan Chase?" he recalled, astounded when House merely raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. "His father's Rowan Chase?"

Wilson let out a low whistle.

"See? You think it's cool."

"Not much of a family resemblance." Wilson said fairly, shrugging.

"Probably not Rowan's. Famous doctor travels a lot, wife stays home alone, gets bored, screws the next door neighbour…"

"Get it, illegitimate love child," Wilson cut him off, rolling his eyes. "Boy, he must have it good, though."

House hummed noncommittally. Wilson looked over, curious.

"What?"

House gave no reaction besides steadily making his way through his meal.

"What is it?" Wilson pressed, resuming House's role of Chase-watching.

House took a deep breath.

"He has creases in his shirt."

Wilson darted looks between his friend and Chase.

"He's a teenager. Teenagers don't care about ironing… it's probably cool not to care about-"

"He's a perfectionist; there shouldn't be creases in his shirt."

Wilson realised, with a little sinking feeling, that his friend was deathly serious.

"Perfectionist?" he found himself asking, despite himself.

"Hair's way too good for him not to be."

Wilson rubbed a hand across his face, finding it a lot easier to just accept it.

"Alright, let's say you're right-"

"I am right."

"Why are there creases in his shirt then, Holmes?"

House paused for a second, deep in thought, before straightening and taking a defiant forkful of curry.

"Don't know."

Of course he didn't.

"That's actually all you have, isn't it? He has a famous dad and didn't have time to iron his shirt this morning, that's all it takes to get you interested these days."

"Apparently," House said flippantly.

Wilson decided his salad was a lot less messed-up than House and so turned his attention back to that. They spent a few moments in comfortable silence, just having lunch, before House abruptly stopped eating, fork raised halfway to his mouth. Wilson first looked to him, and at finding nothing evidently wrong, glanced over at Chase. A burly jock guy, Lyle Thompson, if he remembered correctly, was tugging rather insistently at Cameron's arm as she just brushed him off, keeping her attention fixed on Chase.

They could see Chase's growing unease with every threatening look Thompson shot at him, even as he kept his now rather strained conversation with Cameron going.

It was like a ticking time bomb.

A very simple equation: new attractive guy plus the interest of popular girl makes for one jealous suitor of said popular girl. Unfortunately, the products of this reaction were more than a little volatile.

After a few more seconds of Cameron politely trying to get Thompson to stop trying to yank her arm out of its socket, Chase gave in and turned his gaze to him. He probably said something along the lines of 'Why don't you just leave her alone?', but neither of House nor Wilson could hear it. Besides, it didn't really matter what he had said when Thompson abruptly stood up, leant over the table and fisted his hand in Chase's shirt, yanking him to his feet.

The guy, practically twice Chase's height and weight, at least through House's eyes, pulled him roughly forward until they were practically nose to nose. Any normal teacher would have stepped up to intercede at that point, but House was most certainly not normal. He even held a hand out to stop Wilson from going over.

"Wait a second," he said at Wilson's indignant look.

"Are you _insane_?" Wilson hissed. "That kid is going to knock Chase out."

House didn't move his arm, watching the scene closely.

The Australian gave surprisingly little reaction to being intimidated, acting like he and Thompson were casually discussing the weather, not even struggling out of the grip on his shirt. The curtain pulled over his expression was so seamless it might as well have been visible.

The lack of reaction was perhaps the most interesting reaction he could have given.

It was almost like he expected this from every casual acquaintance he met.

When Thompson drew his fist back and Chase didn't so much as flinch, House seized his cane and limped over there as quickly as he could himself. When it was clear he wasn't going to be able to move as fast as a speeding fist, he spoke up over the cafeteria.

"Ooh," he said, still a distance away, but managing to draw Thompson's attention. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Thompson stared at him incredulously, his raised fist dropping slightly as if he wasn't sure what to do with it. The crowded room around them fell still and quiet as the rest of the students looked to see where this would go.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm all for punching Chase, but I'd have to report you… and then there'd be all that paperwork and you'd be suspended…"

He trailed off with an expression which suggested he'd find that pretty irritating.

Thompson, clearly unsure what to do with such a lax teaching method, reluctantly let go of Chase's shirt. Once free, the blonde immediately picked his bag up from the floor and walked out of the silent cafeteria without so much as a backward glance. Shocked by Chase's rather stoic manner, it took House a moment to collect himself.

"Well… carry on," he said to the table at large.

He returned to Wilson as Cameron shot Thompson a disgusted look and followed Chase out. He sat down and resumed eating his lukewarm curry, not sparing Wilson a single word. When the stare aimed at the side of his face persisted, House glared at Wilson.

"What?" he snapped.

Wilson just raised his hands up, smiling a little.

"This one _is_ special," he said, the smirk evident in his tone. "For a second there, it looked like you cared."

House blinked, looking horrified.

"Did anyone else see?"

Wilson continued eating his emotionally-rather-simple salad.

* * *

**A/N: **Woah, sorry about the long wait, everything's been a bit hectic recently so I haven't been able to write as much as I would like (this goes for my other two stories too; _Haunted _and _A Bit of Harmless Fun_). Hopefully the next chapter will be a bit quicker in being uploaded. 

Hope you liked it. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"It's really fine," Chase tried for the third time.

Although managing to avoid everyone at the break after the cafeteria incident, Allison had managed to catch him as he crossed the school parking lot to leave at the end of the day. Not having the heart to ignore her calling his name, he had stopped to let her catch up with him. Since then she had been apologising profusely for Lyle's behaviour between an old Cadillac and a brand new red Corvette.

Despite Chase insisting that he really wasn't damaged from the encounter and, even if he was, he didn't blame her for it, Allison wasn't listening. Unfortunately for Chase, Allison was the sort of girl who would feel bad if she even indirectly stepped on an ant, and so wouldn't just allow Chase to accept her apology so easily.

"He had no right doing that, I dumped him last year. And even if I hadn't, I can talk to whoever I want-"

"Allison," Chase interrupted. "Seriously, I get it, and I'm fine."

Cameron gave him a look he was surprisingly familiar with; the 'you don't _seem _fine' look, but Chase brushed it aside, telling himself he didn't have the time to really raise an issue with her scepticism.

"Well," she said, wringing her hands. "If you're sure."

They were left in silence as Chase tried to think of a polite and friendly way to leave.

"I just wanted to remind you House's detention is tomorrow lunchtime," she continued. "I think so anyway, he likes playing games. It might be now."

Admittedly not all that familiar with House and really needing to go _right now_, Chase flashed her a quick, fake smile.

"I'll be there," he said. "But I kind of have work in an hour, so…"

"Oh," Cameron said with wide eyes. "Well, okay, I'll… um… see you."

Chase tried ignored the sliver of hurt he could see in Allison's smile but unfortunately, the do-gooder in him just couldn't let things lie like that.

"Maybe we can have that coffee after school tomorrow? If that's still on offer."

Cameron gave him a smile which was startlingly more genuine than Chase's own, feeble attempt earlier.

"Sure, that would be cool."

"Cool," Chase echoed. "Well, see you then."

Feeling a lot less like an insensitive bastard, Chase turned and left the school grounds, not noticing the window of the Corvette winding down and a pair of curious blue eyes watching him leave.

-

Approaching the flat where he lived made Chase wonder if he should have stayed in Australia for a bit longer.

It was that much of a dump.

They lived on the third floor of some impersonal, smog-blackened building in the heart of the city. It was so far from the 'right' postcode, they might as well be in a different state from the neat little suburban lawns which made up the richer parts of New Jersey. Chase usually took the fire escape up to their floor, just because the halls were lined with junkies and the lifts were broken anyway. Unfortunately for him, the fire escape was in dire need of replacement, so climbing up it was very much the same as taking your life in your own hands. Especially as many of the higher-up steps were completely eaten away by rust.

Needless to say, grocery shopping was nothing short of an adventure.

However as every other apartment he had looked at was either too expensive or owned by a landlord that looked at him a bit too closely for him not to be freaked out, Chase figured he'd gotten a pretty good deal. Besides, the rent was something he could afford with the money he made working nights at the store, so he supposed everything would work out just fine. Well, until he could leave school, get a real job and find some way to help his mother, anyway.

He would be just fine without Rowan.

No, _they_ would be just fine without Rowan.

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, he made his way up the fire escape and through the door to his apartment, which Chase doubted had ever locked or been connected to any alarm system. He emerged into a dingy corridor, the light from the glass set into the front door the only real illumination. He slipped his bag off his shoulder and placed it against a wall, reflecting that maybe the poor lighting wasn't such a bad thing; at least it hid away the peeling wallpaper and rising damp.

This was really what his life had been reduced to.

It wasn't so long ago that he had only cared about football and which one of his classmates at his overly expensive private school was throwing the next party.

Well, things change.

He glanced around his apartment to stop himself feeling bitter. It was unimaginatively designed, just one long central corridor running between the front door and fire escape which all rooms leading off it: one bedroom, one bathroom, one lounge and one kitchen. Chase usually slept on the floor of whichever room was least overrun by cockroaches, giving his mother the 'master suite'.

Thinking about the mansion they used to live in almost seemed surreal, although he supposed being trapped in this depressing apartment was still preferable to being trapped by his oppressive father.

Realising he really couldn't put this off any longer, Chase set off down the corridor. He started with the first door to his left; the kitchen. It was empty, but he entered it regardless, striding over to the fridge and opening it to see the sandwich he had prepared that morning left untouched. Again. He sighed and threw it in the trash on his way out.

Had he honestly expected anything else?

Chase crossed the hall to the door directly opposite the kitchen and entered the lounge. It was dark inside, only a vague orange light filtering in through shuttered windows and the flickering shadows the television cast along the walls. Draped across the couch was his mother; thin, sickly and pale, staring blankly at the TV with bloodshot eyes. Chase's gaze drifted to the gin bottle on the floor, the neck of which was gripped by one sinewy hand.

"Where did you get that?" he asked.

He tried to sound strong and calm, but it came out sounding more weak and strangled.

"Bought it."

Even her voice sounded broken.

Chase bit his lip, knowing that anything he said or did at that point wouldn't be considered helpful and, _yes_, that included crying. Nevertheless, his eyes stung and he bit his lip just that little bit harder to stop any tears from falling. So what if she could get up to buy alcohol but not to work or do anything to take even a fraction of the weight off his shoulders? It didn't matter.

She was an addict, simple as that.

"Close the door."

Chase glanced up, startled that she had actually spoken voluntarily, before realising that she was squinting at the meagre triangle of light passing through the open door. Despite feeling like snapping 'well, maybe if you didn't _drink_…', he did as she asked.

"I meant for you to leave too," she admitted, taking a swig from the bottle at her side and sounding bitterly amused.

Not having any witty comebacks where his mother was concerned, Chase turned his attention to the TV. Some talk show was on. The guests screaming at each other so quietly, it might as well have been on mute.

"Where were you today?" she asked.

Chase looked up, hopeful. Did that mean she had missed him, perhaps?

"I was at school, mum. I told you last week… I started today."

"Why'd you come back?"

She cackled to herself, her laugh fractured through years of heavy smoking.

Hilarious.

Chase took a couple of steps forward, dropping on one knee to survey her properly. He disregarded the images his memory supplied him with of how his mum was _meant_ to look. She had always been so conscious of her appearance before everything had happened: blonde hair always perfectly coiffed and fixed with vast amounts of hairspray and her make up always impeccable. Now her hair hadn't been combed for weeks and her face looked old at best, washed-up at worst. Sunken eyes and cheeks, dark circles, ratty hair…

Chase glanced down, his gaze falling onto the gin bottle.

He reached out for it, making to tug it away, but his mother's grip was too strong, the tendons in her forearm snapping to attention to keep her grip.

"Let _go_, Robert," she snarled.

Chase was honestly surprised she had even remembered his name.

He tried for a few minutes to pull the alcohol away, but his efforts were futile. Realising the only way he was going to take the bottle would be to literally pry it from her cold, dead fingers, he settled for twisting it upside-down, allowing the foul liquid to pour out onto the carpet. It wasn't like it was going to affect the market value of this place.

His mother screeched in anger as the gin drained away, trying desperately to right the bottle again. Fortunately she was too late when she did manage to snatch it back from him, and the bottle was already empty. In a rage, she threw the bottle at the wall behind Chase, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

This was about to get very ugly very quickly.

Chase stood and backed away as his mother sat up; her eyes alight with nothing short of fury. He reached behind himself for the door handle, but she was quicker, lunging across the room to slap him across the face. Although, in general terms, a reasonably healthy sixteen year old boy should be able to withstand a hit from a drunk, frail, forty-something year old woman, Chase was thoroughly unprepared and off-balance when she had struck out. The blow sent him to the ground on his side, straight onto the remnants of the broken gin bottle.

He cried out at the unexpected searing pain, realising that his mother had seriously hurt him this time.

Unfortunately, she didn't seem to care, or, indeed, even notice, her son was in any need of help and stepped over his legs to leave the lounge and retreat to her own room. As soon as he heard the door slam shut, Chase gingerly picked himself off the floor, careful not to slash his hands on any more of the broken glass. After taking a second to calm his breathing, Chase stood and walked over to sit on the arm of the couch.

Steeling himself for the worst, he glanced down at the side he had landed on. Initially, all he could see were a few splashes of blood from what he assumed were only superficial wounds.

Well, that was only initially.

Just below his ribcage, a large shard of glass was embedded in his side.

His breath hitched as he surveyed the extent of the damage. Despite taking a couple of first aid courses in Australia, he was still in shock and he couldn't quite remember what you were meant to do in these situations. Did you take the glass out or leave it in?

Chase pressed a hand to his spinning head, telling himself to calm down.

He had work in half an hour.

Whatever he did, he'd have to do it now.

* * *

**A/N: **Really have to stop messing up my characters. 

Poor Chase, what's he going to do now?

Hopefully the portrayal of his mother was realistic. I kind of had to use a bit of past experience in her creation, so...

**About Pairings... **As you may have noticed, I haven't specified a pairing for this fiction. At the moment I think it could go one of two ways, either Chase/Cameron or House/Chase. I'm willing to accept suggestions on this, but I think I want to see how it plays out and write what is the most natural. A bit unconventional... but oh well.

I hope you liked it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Lowering the volume of his iPod with a few flicks of his thumb, House walked into the 24/7, grabbing a basket as he went. He gave a half-smile at the pretty blonde girl behind the counter as he walked past, knowing at this hour she must be as miserable as he was. Unfortunately, she seemed to be a bit preoccupied with her own thoughts and didn't even glance over.

House walked further into the shop, squinting against the impossibly bright fluorescent lights and looked around for his usual bare essentials: microwave pizzas, scotch, ready meals, vodka…

The ordinary staples of a healthy diet.

Shopping with a cane was trying at best and downright impossible at the worst. With one hand always occupied with a cane and the other carrying a basket, it wasn't easy to make do the relatively simple task of transferring a product from the shelf to his side. Nevertheless, ten minutes later he was finished and he limped over to the till. The blonde was still there, straightening packets of cigarettes on the wall with her back turned to him.

He cleared his throat loudly.

House heard her barely audible sigh as she wiped her hands on her jeans (as if just touching cancer sticks was a bad idea) before turning to him and freezing in shock.

It was Chase.

To the kid's credit, he recovered first, quickly hoisting up a professional mask of indifference and moving forward to ring up his purchases. House stared at him, unable to believe that he had thought Chase was a girl at first glance. Sure, he wasn't particularly broad-shouldered or built like a footballer, but he wasn't _feminine_.

It had to be the hair, House decided.

He shook off his train of though and came back to reality, noticing Chase was becoming a little uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

"How long have you worked here?" House asked, feeling the need to justify his staring.

"Since I moved here… four months, maybe," he said with a shrug.

As the awkwardness was palpable enough to make this particular encounter a two-pill-situation, House withdrew his trusty Vicodin from his inner jacket pocket.

"So, is it just Thursdays, then?" he asked, popping the pills dry.

Chase didn't answer immediately, evaluating this particular move of his teacher and glimpsing the label on the prescription bottle, before scanning what had to be the twentieth pizza.

"Sure."

House frowned at that answer. It wasn't a 'yes', it was a 'believe what you want'. The kid probably worked every night. Chase stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, the other still continuing with House's shopping. He noticed the dark circles under the boy's eyes.

"When do you get to leave?"

He was aware it sounded as if he was interrogating the Australian.

"Not long now."

Liar.

House continued to survey his student as if the truth could be discerned from his rather weary movements.

"Well as long as it doesn't affect your schoolwork," he said. "That paper's due in tomorrow."

"It's already done."

At least he wasn't incapable of telling the truth, House reflected, looking at the bowed head. He saw how Chase hesitated before ringing through the hard liquor he had brought.

"Are you meant to drink when you're on Vicodin?" Chase asked.

"No," House said flippantly. "It's for a friend."

Chase snorted softly in a way that suggested he didn't believe him. However, before he had chance to comment, a man walked out of the 'staff only' room behind the counter, stretching. He was probably only just approaching middle-aged with brown hair and equally uninspiring brown eyes. A five-o'clock-shadow dusted his jaw (not at all like House's own cool, unshaven look), giving him the look of a slob, even if his rather muscular physique belied that.

House took an immediate dislike to him as he walked forward to look over Chase's shoulder as if checking the blonde was doing his job properly. It could have been an innocuous act if it wasn't for the hand skimming down Chase's side and the almost feral grin on the man's face.

The teenager stiffened but didn't move away, meeting House's eyes for an instant before quickly dipping his head again. The look of complete humiliation in Chase's eyes made House feel uncomfortable for him; certainly, being felt up by your boss in front of your teacher wasn't ideal. He looked away as well; wondering if that might spare the teenager from some embarrassment.

"How late are you working tonight?" he heard the man murmur, tilting his head slightly.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Chase shoot him a wary look before replying.

"Two," he said.

House frowned. The kid's hours were extortionate. Unfortunately, from the way that man was eyeing Chase, he obviously wasn't too concerned at either how old he was or how he fared between shifts.

"Want to shut early tonight… earn a bonus?"

House gave up his whole deaf-and-mute act, snapping his gaze to the boy who was stoically scanning a bottle of vodka, not looking at either man. The blush he was wearing showed that he wasn't as oblivious as it seemed to the conversation.

"I can't," he answered eventually.

House wasn't sure what Chase would have said if his Biology teacher wasn't standing right there, listening to every word. His boss pulled a face before leaning around and whispering something in the teenager's ear that House couldn't quite catch. However whatever it was drained the colour from Chase's face and left him shaken, even as the man walked off.

The atmosphere left in his wake was stifling and House knew that whatever he could say would not be right, so kept silent, his mind practically whirring as it tried to comprehend what had just happened. Did that guy really ask what House thought he'd asked?

And, more worryingly, _had Chase said 'yes' before_?

"Anything else?" Chase asked monotonously, drawing out a couple of carrier bags from behind the counter and stuffing his shopping in them.

"An explanation, maybe?" House said, all of his pent up confusion and anger welling to the surface.

Chase looked up at him for the first time since his boss had walked in, silently daring him to even say a word about what had just happened.

"What I do out of school is none of your business."

House blinked.

If it wasn't from the fact he could see quite plainly Chase's hands were shaking, he would never have guessed it from the strength in the teenager's voice. He was marginally impressed.

"True. But, see, if you work until two in the morning, maybe even longer if that boss of yours has his way, it's going to impact your schoolwork."

Chase rolled his eyes.

"I can handle it."

"You're quitting."

Chase opened his mouth in indignation.

"Er… no I'm not."

"You are, unless you like getting felt up by random strangers," House countered.

"Tom's not random," Chase pointed out, nonplussed.

"Oh, wow, you know the guy's name. I was clearly wrong about you two. Hey, does he know yours as well? 'Cause then that's like true love."

Chase shot him a surprisingly jaded look.

"I need the money."

House scoffed, wondering how stupid Chase thought he was.

"In what reality is the son of Rowan Chase poor?"

It seemed the mention of his father was the last straw as Chase slammed his hands down on the counter.

"I mean it," he snarled. "It's none of your business."

House raised his eyebrows at the magnitude of the blonde's Daddy issues, completely missing the flash of pain that crossed the teenager's face. He knew he should back off, take his shopping and never bring up this evening or Chase's depressing life again.

Unfortunately, House never went by what he 'should' do.

"It just seems to me that the child of a famous doctor wouldn't be working until two a.m. for no reason."

Chase paused in what he was doing, a wry smile twisting his lips.

"You know what? I would tell you," he announced. "I would if I thought it was for any other reason than just to figure me out."

"Is that such a bad reason?"

Chase shrugged, packing up the last of his shopping.

"It's not one I'm interested in."

House watched him for a moment before deciding to simply antagonise the answer out of the blonde. He was not going to deal with all this mushy stuff.

"Is this you showing your Dad you're independent? Working late with sleazy men really shows-" House stopped abruptly, noticing something on Chase's shirt. "Hey… is that blood?"

The teenager's eyes darted down to his side without even bothering to check where House was looking. Sure enough, a smear of blood had apparently managed to work through Chase's clumsily-wrapped bandage and stained his blue shirt an odd purple colour.

So pulling the glass out was apparently a bad idea.

"Oh, that's nothing," Chase said, shrugging.

Unfortunately for him, it seemed that his side had reopened sometime during him bagging his teacher's shopping (probably when he'd shouted at him) and now the bloodstain was slowly, but steadily, spreading.

"Yeah, like this is nothing," House said, lifting his cane for emphasis. "What happened?"

Flashes of memory flickered behind his eyes, playing like one of those old black-and-white movies. It was that, more than anything, which made him suddenly stop what he was doing and grasp the countertop, swaying slightly.

House, seeing his student's already unhealthy pallor turn somewhat corpse-like, limped around the tills and directed him to sit down behind the counter before he fainted.

"My boss is going to kill me," Chase murmured.

From the way Chase was slumped against the counter, House really thought he'd got his priorities mixed up.

"What happened?" he repeated, this time with a touch more urgency.

"I broke a window… I was cleaning it up but I fell and…" he trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

House quickly reformed his opinion of Chase as a 'bad' liar to that of an absolutely appalling one.

"Was it your dad?"

That did make Chase glance up, startled.

"No, of course not."

The look of sheer surprise that cross Chase's face made House reluctantly accept that Rowan had nothing to do with this. Unfortunately, it only raised more questions.

"Let me see," he said, gesturing to his student's side.

"N-No way," Chase said, startled. "I'll be fine in a minute."

House pressed the back of his hand to Chase's forehead, now kneeling over him.

"You feel like ice," House informed him. "If you don't get to a hospital pretty soon, you'll pass out from blood loss. Either way, you're definitely not fine… so, strip."

Shooting his teacher-cum-unwanted saviour a dirty look, Chase lifted up one side of his shirt with one hand, gently pushing the bandages out of the way with the other. House drew in a sharp breath through his teeth at seeing the wound.

"So you got this by…"

"Falling on glass," Chase repeated.

"Right," House said, deciding this was the least of his worries. "And so instead of telling your world famous doctor of a dad, you decided to come to work? You must have lost a pint of blood here! You're either incredibly stupid or a liar."

Chase crossed his arms, knowing looking intimidating was a hard feat for him even when fully dressed.

"He's not here right now… my dad."

"Then why not go to an ER? You need stitches for this."

Chase shrugged.

"Didn't seem that bad."

"Sure."

They reached an impasse, each glaring at the other. Eventually, Chase broke eye contact.

"Does it even matter?" Chase asked, glaring at his knees.

He looked like he was going to continue, but stopped himself, leaving an odd sense of anticipation in the air.

"I guess not," House said slowly, his eyes narrowed. "Get up; I'm taking you to a hospital."

Chase shook his head.

"What now?" House asked, exasperated. "If this is one of those phobia-things, you can forget any other offers of help."

"I don't have insurance."

Interesting.

"Your father is-"

"Stinking rich," Chase interrupted, frustrated. "I get it. I get this is your idea of Christmas come early, but just accept it: I can't go to a hospital."

House rolled his eyes.

"This is why I hate immigrants," he said, catching Chase's unreadable gaze. "Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm all for diversity, but when they come over here knowing nothing about the medical system they make stupid mistakes. Like, for example, refusing to get stitches because they didn't know about free clinics."

Chase's expression didn't change although House could bet the teenager was kicking himself right about now.

"Well thank you for that. Now that you've wasted my time with that lecture, I feel much more enlightened."

House gave him a blinding smile.

"You're welcome."

There was a moment's pause before Chase spoke again.

"So… um, where's a clinic around here?"

It was going to be a long night.

-

"How long is this going to take?" Chase asked, sitting on one of the exam tables and kicking his legs back and forth, looking every bit the moody teenager he should be at his age.

House stood, leaning against one wall, and watching him. He had absolutely no reason to be there: he could have easily left Chase in the waiting room, or even at the door. He didn't need to walk him in, wait with him and even feed his scumbag of a boss a good excuse as to why Chase was leaving early.

To an outside observer, it might look like he gave a damn.

And that would be unacceptable. He'd known Chase for all of, what, three days? It took Wilson a good three years to work himself into House's life the way Chase had. If he started going sappy over every hurt, blonde Australian that crossed his path, soon rumours would be spread, Stacey might want to take him back and-

House shuddered, cutting off his train of thought.

Before he could even contemplate walking out, the door to the exam room opened and a tall man in a white coat entered, reading the form Chase had filled in while waiting.

"Robert… Chase, yes?" he asked.

He was clearly a bit rundown, as most clinic doctors were these days, and the circles under his eyes suggested he was only still awake due to copious amounts of caffeine.

Nevertheless, Chase nodded and stopped swinging his legs.

"And you would be Rowan?" the doctor asked, looking over to House.

Figuring that was better than telling someone he was Chase's teacher who happened to be hanging out with him out of school hours, House nodded.

The doctor immediately dropped his exhaustion, striding over to shake House's hand with an enthusiastic grin on his face.

"Dr Chase, it's such an honour. I'm Dr Montgomery; I must have read everything you've ever written."

House stoically ignored the way Chase, the real Chase, hid a smile behind his hand and instead returned the doctor's handshake with a strained smile.

"Nice to meet you," he said in his best Australian accent.

Unable to help himself, Chase burst out laughing, drawing the doctor's slightly bemused gaze. Although Chase was now probably going to get a psych referral, he did succeed in diverting the doctor's attention away from House's terribly fake accent.

"And what seems to be the problem?"

After a quick glance at House, Chase undid his shirt, tugging it off to expose his wounded side.

"Ouch," Dr Montgomery exclaimed, bending down to examine Chase more closely. "How did this happen?"

"Fell on some glass," Chase said with a shrug.

House was surprised at the doctor's easy acceptance of that story. Not even House believed that was all there was to it and he didn't care.

Dr Montgomery got out a suture kit, dragging over a stool so he could sit down while he stitched Chase's side up.

"I have to say, I'm surprised to see you here, Dr Chase," he commented, swiping an antiseptic pad along the cuts.

Chase flinched a little, and House couldn't help but wonder if it was the pad or his words that had done it.

"Really?"

Chase shot him a glare through a haze of pain, telling him this was not the time to pry into his life.

"Yeah, the scleroderma conference isn't for another six months and… well, your practice in Melbourne is pretty demanding from what I've heard."

House's eyes narrowed as Chase abruptly glanced away from them both, looking at the blue linoleum floors.

What did this mean?

"Yeah, well, Robert wanted a vacation," House said with a smile.

The doctor once again tried to engage the rather silent Chase in conversation.

"To New Jersey? When I was your age I wanted to see Europe."

It was clear the last thing Chase wanted was to be brought back to reality while someone was sticking needles into him, but nevertheless, he sent the doctor a smile which was almost as strained as House's.

"Dad always used to talk about how nice it was when he came back from those conferences," he explained through gritted teeth.

How sweet.

The doctor clearly shared that view as he ruffled Chase's hair.

"Yeah, you want to follow in Dad's footsteps? Become a doctor?"

Chase shrugged one shoulder dejectedly.

"Maybe, I guess."

"It's a lot of hard work, kid. You have to be committed, but I guess I'm lecturing the wrong guy here."

From the cold stare Chase gave the man, House assumed he wasn't the only one who hated Dr Montgomery.

"Alright," the doctor said, laughing at the awkward tension in the room. "Well we're just about done here. Take it easy for the next few days, alright? And I'll see you in a couple of weeks to take these out, just make an appointment at reception."

With that, he finished suturing neatly; wrapping gauze around Chase's chest in a slightly more professional manner than Chase had managed himself.

"Thanks," Chase murmured, pushing himself off the exam table.

House followed the teenager as he left the exam room, leaving a rather snubbed Dr Montgomery behind them. Really, Chase had a way to go before he was quite at his level, but he wasn't bad for a sixteen year old.

"Listen," Chase stated out of the blue. "Thanks for… um, tonight."

Of course he had to go and wreck House's admiration of him.

"Are you kidding? It was either this or General Hospital on TiVo. This is a bit more realistic, there was blood and everything."

Chase let out a wry smile at that one, sensing that expressions of gratitude weren't going to be appreciated by his Biology teacher.

"Alright," he sighed. "Fine, this was fun for you. But you don't have to stick around for all the form-filling and stuff, you've done your good deed."

House limped along beside him, wondering if that sort of line worked with anyone.

"And how are you going to get home?"

"I don't live far from here, I can just walk."

"You don't live far from the clinic you didn't know about?" House repeated sceptically.

"Yeah," Chase agreed, a hint of challenge in his voice.

They soon joined the throng of people gathered around the reception desk.

"You don't live with your Dad, do you?" House asked, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead.

Chase didn't reply, even as heat rose to his face at the accusation.

"Fine," House said, suddenly tired of the endless puzzles regarding his student. "See you tomorrow, then."

He left Chase standing in that crowd of strangers and told himself he had nothing to feel guilty about.

* * *

**A/N: **Woot! Longest chapter of Addictions and Vices yet[_which hopefully makes up for the longest gap between updates_. Now is the time for my endless (it seems) notes on this chapter and the future of this fic.

First off, thanks for all the support you guys have been giving me, it's truly appreciated.

Secondly, don't worry about me not updating this. It may take me a while to update (real life can get in the way sometimes, as I'm sure you guys can sympathise with), but I will put a note up if I ever abandon AV, so you will know ASAP and won't just be waiting around for nothing.

Thirdly, apologies about any clinical/medical anomalies in this chapter. I'm a British teenager, so admittedly poorly versed in the American medical system :).

Fourthly, my 'About Pairings' note on the last chapter was perhaps worded a bit too strongly. I want to assure you I will only write what will work with this fic. If no pairing really works, this will focus on character development etc. As it is, those were the two pairings I could realistically see this ending up as, but nothing is set in stone by any means as there are drawbacks to either coupling. House/Chase is possibly troublesome as although the age difference isn't a problem legally (thanks_ jerseygirl_ for your information about consent), him being Chase's teacher is; also, I wouldn't be sure Wilson could support this. Chase/Cameron is a bit of a problem as I don't see how she could find out about Chase's past and family as she can't access the same resources as House and she's a bit more restricted by social graces and tact (which House lacks). Basically, what I'm saying is don't be put off by that note in the last chapter, I will only do what is in the best interests of AV and I am aware of the problems that might be encountered. Thank you for all the feedback though, it definitely gave me things to think about.

Finally, hope you liked this chapter (and my extensive notes), its a bit of manly bonding in there ;). Please don't be freaked out by the boss, it will be worth it in the next chapter, I promise. x.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The next morning found House striding purposefully towards Room 109. He knocked on it twice with his cane, a rare show of courtesy, before opening it and leaning around the door.

Wilson, along with thirty or so other students, looked over at him.

"Need a consult," he said by way of explanation.

Wilson stared at him.

"A what?"

"Consult," House repeated, slowly this time. "You know, consultation, I tell you things, we discuss and then eventually you figure out how to solve whatever I've just told you."

Wilson leant back and crossed his arms.

"I know what a consult is," he said dryly. "I was more interested in why you would need one. You're not a doctor."

Finding his awkward, although rather cool, pose of leaning around the door a little too painful on his leg, he stood up properly and simply opened the door a bit wider.

"Not according to my driving licence."

Wilson sighed, but obviously figured leaving was a lot easier than arguing.

"Alright, read up to page 27. I'll be back in five."

Wilson breezed past him out of the door.

"He means about fifteen," House clarified to the class before following his friend out into the corridor.

"So?" Wilson asked. "What do you want?"

"Sixteen year old male," House announced, strolling towards the staff room. "Compulsive need to overwork himself, infatuation with older, slightly greasy men."

Wilson stopped dead in his tracks.

"A student has a crush on you?" he asked, incredulous.

House also stopped.

"You think I'm greasy?" he asked, echoing Wilson's tone.

When Wilson didn't even blink, House rolled his eyes and continued limping down the hall.

"No, not me," he sighed. "Some other guy, not as handsome. If it was fancying me… well, there would be nothing wrong with him, I'm gorgeous."

"Right. Well, now that we've done that whole stroking-your-ego routine-"

"If that's what you kids are calling it these days."

"-can I go back to my class?" Wilson continued, exasperated. "My students tend to need a teacher around to learn things."

"Incompetent fools."

"Even so, if Cuddy finds out I'm skipping lessons to hang out with you…"

"Alright," House muttered, annoyed. "Just give me a bit of a clue here."

Wilson sighed as House entered the staff room and poured himself a mug of coffee while he waited outside the closed door, as if they made what they were doing any less unprofessional.

"Working a lot, maybe he needs the money," Wilson called.

"He has a rich dad," came the rather dismissive response.

"Maybe rich dad isn't too fond of his over-working son."

There was silence as House pondered on that for a second.

"Seems like a nice kid, though."

"A nice kid who likes nice, old, greasy men."

"Ah, so daddy's a bit medieval," House said, re-emerging from the staffroom, mug in hand.

"Or evangelical."

House nodded in acknowledgement.

"Although, maybe I should have said the greasy man likes him a lot more than he seems to like the greasy man."

Wilson frowned.

"Wait, you mean you saw a kid get hit on by some creepy old guy and you just did… _nothing_?"

House entertained the possibility of telling Wilson exactly what he did for Chase last night, purely for shock value, before rolling his eyes.

"Well no, that would have been irresponsible," he said, waiting for Wilson to look relieved, before: "I looked away while he got hit on."

Wilson looked like he wanted to cry.

"You know, good people tend to help vulnerable kids out."

"Well don't dismiss him as vulnerable. You know how emasculating that is?"

Realising that anything he said would be met with denial and sarcasm, Wilson gave up on this line of attack. Clearly House was feeling rather defensive.

Maybe he did feel bad about not intervening.

"Are you going to tell me who it is so I can actually help you," Wilson asked in a deadpan, "or would you just like to move on to another disgruntled colleague?"

House toyed with that idea for a few seconds, before shrugging.

"Robert Chase."

He downed a gulp of coffee and walked down the corridor, heading back towards the lesson he'd abandoned for this.

"The Australian?" Wilson asked, shocked.

"Racist."

"Well," Wilson started, bowled over. "You know you should tell someone about this, right? Cuddy… social services… something like that."

House hummed.

"I was thinking maybe not."

"House," Wilson said sternly, stopping outside Room 109. "If he's in danger-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go in there and do your job or something."

Wilson shot House's back one final look of disbelief before doing just that.

House continued on until he reached the door two rooms away, entering it to find his class still writing diligently, obviously wary of him already. He limped around to his desk, collapsing into his chair only to notice Chase and Cameron were obviously not writing nor indeed paying any attention to him. They were turned to each other, heads bowed, and holding their own conversation.

House decided not to call them on it (not because he still felt sorry for Chase, just because he would have done the same, of course) and instead stood up.

"I have marked your homework," he announced as if this stepped incredibly far outside the bounds of teaching and withdrew a stack of papers from his top drawer.

However, even if most of his students did look nonplussed at the news, he did succeed in drawing Chase's attention away from Cameron and House took the time to survey his student discreetly. Bags under the eyes, looking a bit pale, but besides that, he looked pretty healthy, even against the odd bright orange T-shirt he was wearing.

Really, there was only so much you could blame on teenage fashion trends.

House retrieved his cane from the back wall and began to hand out the essays individually, soon losing Chase's gaze once more.

"So there's this really nice place a few blocks from here," Allison continued after their teacher's interruption. "They serve the best cappuccinos in the city."

Chase glanced back to her, for a moment completely confused with the conversation, before remembering he'd agreed to have coffee with her after school the other day. He supposed with everything else that had happened this had sort of been pushed out of his mind.

"Oh right, sounds good."

"Have you been out much around here?"

Chase completely missed the slightly leading, prying tone in her voice.

"No, not really. Don't know that many people."

Oh, and there was the fact he was perpetually broke, but he decided not to mention that.

"That's a shame."

Cameron really didn't sound that sorry for him, but Chase didn't have time to dwell on that as the sound of a chair crashing to the floor had sounded behind them.

"This is bullshit," a guy Chase was unsurprised not to recognise, shouted, attempting to tower over a bored House. "You can't speak to us like that."

"Aw," House pouted. "Have I hurt your feelings?"

Foreman, sitting next to the irate student, tried to cool him down but it was clearly futile. Shaking his head, the student swept his bag off the floor, grabbed his books and stalked out.

"You'll be hearing from my father," he said, stalking from the room and slamming the door shut behind him.

"Yeah, I'm quivering in fear," House shouted back at the closed door.

The whole confrontation lasted less than thirty seconds, but the class was left silent in shock afterwards. House, seemingly unfazed as always looked around the classroom.

"Hey, you guys haven't seen his essay; don't go all judgemental on me."

They slowly turned back to face front.

"Has that happened before?" Chase asked in an undertone, noticing that a few of the students didn't exactly look surprised at this turn of events.

"Oh yeah," Allison said. "He looses about seven every year, sometimes more, sometimes less. Rumours are there's some sort of betting pool among the staff."

"Right."

There certainly weren't teachers like him in Australia, although he supposed there weren't many teachers like House anywhere.

Chase chewed on his biro, now worried about how he had done. He'd scribbled it down in an hour's gap he had between school and work a few nights ago. It might be rubbish, for all he knew.

Before Chase had a chance to further query Allison on their teacher's methods, House limped over in his direction. Chase held his breath, glad for the painkillers he'd been given at the hospital, but House only turned to talk to Cameron next to him.

"Did you swallow the text book?" he asked her seriously.

Cameron glanced at Chase, who just shrugged, before looking up at their teacher.

"I wanted to make sure everything was right so I just looked a few things up."

House blinked and surveyed her essay, clearly querying the 'few' facts she researched.

"Right," he said. "Well there's this internet site, called 'Poogle'? No, 'Google', that's it. If I wanted it to be perfect, I could have used that. I wanted to check your understanding, not your computer literacy."

With that, he slapped her essay down on her desk, a bright red 'F' in one corner. Cameron went completely still, staring at the paper in front of her as Chase glared at House.

"What?" he snapped, noticing the Australian's look.

"I just can't believe you're penalising her for working hard."

House glanced at him, amused.

"Well, as I always say, work smart, not hard."

Chase rolled his eyes: at least he'd tried.

Cameron gave him a thankful smile which made him feel like maybe he hadn't just been poking an irritated rattlesnake.

House sidestepped to land in front of his desk, eyes skimming over what he assumed was his essay.

"Have you quit your job yet, like we agreed?"

Chase stared at him.

"I didn't agree to that," he said slowly, as if he was senile.

"Is that a no?"

"Yes, that's a no," Chase said, wondering where this was going.

House gave a 'damned-if-you-do' sigh and reached into his pocket, withdrew a red pen, and amended something at the top of the page. When he handed Chase his paper, he saw an 'A' crossed out and replaced with an 'F'.

"So now you're just penalising me for working?"

House pasted a look of hurt onto his face.

"I wouldn't do that," he objected. "I'm just giving the grade a normal student would have gotten if they worked your hours."

Because that made perfect sense.

Chase used his own biro to cross out the F and reinstate his A.

"You're grading yourself?" House asked incredulously. "Don't get me wrong, that saves a lot of time, but-"

"I'm giving myself the grade I would have gotten if I'd had a normal teacher."

House's mouth made an impressed 'o' before he winked.

"Touché," he said, the closest to happy Chase had ever heard him. "Keep your A."

He made to walk coolly back to his desk, before a voice spoke up from the back.

"So he argues with you and he gets an A?"

Ah, Foreman.

Wasn't he just spoiling for a fight after his buddy left?

House turned around slowly as the class collectively held its breath, waiting for House's famous temper to be unleashed once more.

"Yeah," he said simply. "Want to try for yours? Probably won't be as successful, though, he has a cute accent."

Chase just shook his head, placing the biro back in his mouth again, glad nothing had really changed because of last night. Foreman made a strangled sound of protest.

"Alright, you can try and convince me in detention at lunch with the sunshine twins over there," House said, nodding to Cameron and Chase.

It was clear Foreman would have argued with that decision if his friend's leaving wasn't so fresh in his mind. He knew better than to continue pissing House off.

Chase looked over to Allison.

"Can he really get away with this?" Chase asked.

Cameron shrugged.

"He shouldn't," she said, clearly disapproving, "but he's a great teacher and Cuddy cares about him, so I guess he does."

Chase frowned, not sure as to whether he should be amused or concerned with this.

"Although," she continued, now worrying her lip. "If I remember correctly, that guy who walked out, Ed… his dad is a governor or something; if he reports House; he could be in real trouble. Either way, judging by how annoyed he was, I'd say this isn't going to be the last he hears of Vogler."

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, so a blatant nod to 'Cursed' at the beginning and a hint of further parallels at the end hehe. This chapter has really helped me to figure out where this is going, so I can tell you safely much more good stuff is on the way ;).

Thanks for all of your continued support.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Chase walked into House's classroom, where they were meant to be serving detention, a good five minutes late. Allison and Foreman were already present, sitting next to each other on the front row and looking awkward, as if they had already tried and failed to find any common ground between them. Chase couldn't decide if he was surprised or not; although Allison was almost painfully nice to everyone and did seem the sort of person to make senseless small talk, Foreman really didn't seem the type. The only time Chase had really noticed the teenager's presence in his class was after House made his friend walk out. Before then, he'd simply been like a sullen, intimidating shadow at the back of the classroom.

Chase swept a gaze around the classroom, noticing their teacher was suspiciously absent.

"Where's House?" Chase asked.

"Right behind you."

Chase leapt a foot in the air in shock.

"Jesus Christ," Chase exclaimed, rubbing a hand over his heart as if the surprise had actually hurt him.

He turned to see his Biology teacher leaning casually against the door frame, a smirk playing on his lips as he fixed Chase with his bright blue gaze.

"Gregory House, actually. Jesus Christ is just a stage name."

Chase shot him a withering look before walking into the classroom and taking the seat next to Cameron with a half-smile in her direction. House followed, striding to the blackboard at the front of the room and picking up the chalk before beginning to write. They craned to see what that was, but he was blocking the words with his back carefully, leaving all three of them confused.

"What do you guys usually do in detention?"

Taken aback by the question, none of them answered.

"Come on, simple question. How do you think you can be doctors if you hesitate?"

Cameron and Chase glanced at Foreman in surprise; they didn't really know him at all but he'd never really come across as the studious sort. House looked over in time to see what was taking them so long and caught the looks.

"Aw, you can get into med school with a criminal record," he reprimanded, shaking the chalk at Chase and Cameron in reprove before turning to Foreman. "Don't let it stop it pursuing your dreams, man."

House dramatically threw a fist into the air, head bowed, to punctuate his sentiment.

Foreman had no answer except to glare at his teacher.

"How did you find that out?" he asked grimly, ignoring Cameron's wide eyes.

"I did a little morning reading."

"You read my file?!" Foreman asked, standing up.

House rolled his eyes, resuming his scribbling on the blackboard.

"Sit down," House said dismissively. "I read all your files."

"What?" Cameron shrieked as Chase groaned and leaned forward to rest his head on the desk.

"You're acting as if it's some big privacy violation."

"It is," Cameron protested, clearly either ignoring or not recognising the sarcasm. "Does Mrs Cuddy know-"

"Her?" House asked, surprised. "No, she probably wouldn't have gone for it. Why, do you want her to read your files? Yours was kind of boring."

Allison sighed, realising arguing was futile and Foreman returned to his seat glaring. Chase remained slumped over the table.

"Anyway, if you kids aren't going to play nicely, I'll answer my own question. You guys do lines in detention, right? Or just sit there and repent? Chase could give us a few pointers on that, I'm sure."

Bastard.

"That's not in my file," Chase said, not glancing up.

"Have you read it?"

Chase didn't answer.

"Anyway, things are done a little differently with me. We're going to try a bit of problem-based learning. I'm going to show you how I can know that stuff about you without reading your files. Then, you're going to have a go."

Chase didn't like the sound of that and reluctantly straightened. House moved from the board so they could see what he had written.

It wasn't long before Cameron spluttered in indignation, reading down House's list of 'symptoms'.

"You think I 'worry excessively' about my 'petty problems'?"

House smiled at the board, obviously regarding this idea as a bit of a stroke of genius.

"I call 'em as I see 'em."

Cameron crossed her arms.

"Foreman, how do I know Cameron's boring from this information?"

Cameron turned sharply to glare at Foreman, daring him to speak. Foreman rolled his eyes.

"I'm not playing your games."

"Either you answer or we move onto you."

Foreman paused for a second.

Checkmate.

"If you're so preoccupied by minor problems you possibly don't have any major ones," he said reluctantly, staring at the board rather than at Cameron's kicked-puppy expression. "And the obsession over appearance thing could mean you have the time and money to spend on yourself. Alternatively, you could just be a teenage girl who gives a damn about people around her."

House heard the defiance in his voice, but still counted it as a victory.

"I never really believed in that altruism thing, but the first bit was passable. Want to play again?"

"No," he answered firmly, looking distinctly unimpressed with proceedings.

House made a show of looking at the clock.

"Oh, bad luck. Still fifty minutes of my company, I'm afraid."

"You said you wouldn't-"

"Talk about you?" House finished for him. "Well, at least now I can add 'gullible' to your list."

Foreman seemed to growl under his breath before assuming a similar pose to Cameron, arms folded and leaning back into his seat. House rubbed the board clean with one of his sleeves before hitting the chalk residue from it.

"This is why my classroom should have a white one of these," he remarked, nodding to the blackboard. "No offence, Foreman," he added as an afterthought.

"There's a board eraser on your desk," Chase deadpanned.

House looked over and found him to be right.

"Oh, you don't miss a thing do you?"

He did tip Chase a wink just to unsettle them all a bit further, but was rather bitter over messing up his blazer for no good reason.

Smart ass.

He returned to the board, writing up a new set of symptoms as Chase gave Cameron, who still looked upset, a sympathetic look: House was clearly out to humiliate them all.

After a few more seconds of scrawling, House revealed the board to them once more. True to his word, 'gullible' was present at the bottom and Foreman glowered. However, once Chase had glanced through the rest of his list, he believed Foreman had good reason to be angry.

"That isn't fair," Allison spoke up from beside him.

"Why not?"

"He wouldn't have told us that if he had choice, it's not right."

House rolled his eyes.

"His brother's in prison, it's not like he's dying or anything."

"We're not doing this," Chase spoke up. "I'm not analysing that."

"I don't need your pity."

Chase raised his eyebrows in Foreman's direction, surprised at the outright hatred in his voice.

"Um… sorry?"

"I know your type, okay? I'm from a bad neighbourhood and I'm still kicking your ass in this class, I'm no damn charity case."

House looked between the two of them, his gaze darting to Cameron who was sitting uncomfortably between them. This was fun.

Chase simply shrugged; still as intent on avoiding confrontation as ever, apparently, and leaving the room in a tense silence.

"Fine," House said sharply, startling them. "Onto Chase it is, then. Oh, _sorry_, I mean, onto _someone_. I think it might be fun to talk this one out."

Pieces suddenly started falling into place in Chase's mind.

"Is that what this is about?" he asked, laughing. "You can't stand not knowing this badly?"

House didn't even spare him a glance.

"Okay, so we have a hypothetical teenage boy… called Dace. Mom and Dad broke up and Junior lives with Mom. Dad is still rich as hell, probably pays a tonne of child support. However, riddle me this, despite that, why would Junior work until two in the morning on most evenings with a perverted boss?"

"Hey!" Chase cried.

"No, this is for the sake of education," House scolded, leaving Chase open-mouthed with indignation. "Be quiet."

"I swear to God-"

"I think you've done enough of that to last a lifetime," House quipped before turning to Cameron and Foreman, his face lit up in comic enthusiasm. "Seriously, the guy _propositioned_ him right in front of me… and he sticks around. Anyone would think he liked the idea of-"

"Shut up!"

Chase didn't have to look over to feel Allison and Foreman's shocked gazes.

"Just shut the fuck up," he repeated miserably, knowing the damage was already done. "My dad is a bastard and doesn't pay us a cent; my boss is a jerk… happy? Is that what you wanted to hear? Was it worth all this to find out?"

Even House was beginning to feel a little uneasy at the look of betrayal on Chase's face and recognised maybe this wasn't the best way to press him for answers. He almost resented the nagging voice telling him that this was nowhere near the whole story and he still hadn't explained how he'd gotten those injuries.

He knew he should probably apologise, or at least change the subject.

"Does your mom know what you do?"

For a long moment, Chase just stared at him with disbelief and something else which looked a lot like hurt. Then, without a word, he bent down to pick up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He half-heartedly glanced at the other two, but when they only looked away, he let out a soft snort of reluctant acceptance.

Chase walked out.

House couldn't blame him.

* * *

**A/N: ***surfaces* woah, sorry this was so long in the works, real life took over for a while. Well, I say that but I'm posting this in the middle of the January exam period, so I have no idea what's wrong with me lol.

Anyway, hooray for the parallels! I actually got a differential diagnosis of sorts into a high school. It's really late so I have no idea how any of that reads; I hope it's alright in its unbeta-d version.

Thanks for sticking with it, guys.


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